The perp mindset DEMONstrated

May 16, 2008 at 2:01 pm (Megan Meier case, bullying, internet harassment, suicide)
Tags: ,

Since last year, I have been following the Megan MySpace case out of Missouri.  The details are depressing.  When a lonely, overweight teen, Megan Meier, cut off a friendship with one of the neighbor children (for whatever reason) the neighbor’s psychopathic mother decided to get “revenge” for her daughter by setting up a fake MySpace account to woo Megan and dump her.  Now this bitch will finally be brought up on charges.  She may get up to 20 years in prison if convicted.  Now she will be SOMEONE ELSE’S bitch. 

Here, in this video, you can see some of the people involved discuss the new development in this case.  This is a landmark because no one has ever done hard time for an Internet harassment case.  I’m not holding my breath that this will open the floodgates for ti’s to get help, however.

In case you’ve been living under a rock, in 2006, this woman, Lori Drew, and some of her friends from work and some of her daughter’s friends created a character named “Josh”, an older teen, who would build up Megan and “fall in love” with her only to suddenly dump her in the cruellest possible way.  Megan did not survive.  One hour later she was on the end of a rope in her closet.  A few days later, physical death took place at a local hospital.  She would have been 14  in a couple of weeks.

People will forget this detail, so I will point it out:  after “Josh” rejected her, whory-Lori’s friends used the IM feature of the computer to pile on Megan calling her all kinds of names and convincing her to destroy herself.  That probably did more damage than “Josh” rejecting her..the feeling of being ganged up upon and piled on is even worse than a controversy with another human being.  The perps know that…who wants to bet whory Lori is also a perp?  Maybe, maybe not..after all, she might have to PAY for what she has done, and the freaks never get punished.

Someone named Sarah Wells managed to use the Internet to trace back the MySpace account to the Drew household and the big controversy began over a year after the actual suicide took place.  Lori decided to play down the death and told Ms. Meier to “move on”.  The bitch and her husband even tried to press charges because Megan’s parents destroyed a FOOSBALL TABLE the Meier’s were keeping for the Drews.  How’s that for perpy coldness?  After the controversy became known to the world, the Drews retained their hard stance even opening an “anonymous” Blogger account debasing Megan’s character, painting her as an outcast weirdo that annoyed her peers.  (sound familiar?).  Thousands of comments flew from the sites that covered the suicide and I spent hours one night trying to read them all.  Some were in sympathy for Megan and some were NOT, if you can believe it.

The detractors called Megan a loser and a whore and a mental case…it all sounds sooo familiar.

As a final note, Megan was on psychoactive drugs for “depression” and “ADHD” amongst other things which might have led to her suicidal impulsivity.

 

Leave a Comment

is this hell or what?

January 9, 2008 at 1:17 pm (Uncategorized)
Tags: , ,

Do not read the following post if depressed at all.  I have no idea why I wrote it but I did.  Guess the neuroleptic poison had depressed me this bad.  The entry sounds like a description of hell! Another weird thing is: that people actually were quite depressed on Sep 12..of 2001, 19 years later.  Am I psychic?  Doubt it.

September 12 1982

To promote creativity here is a writing of sorts:

I have finally reached the black tunnel.  I cannot see the light from which I came in any more, only the vacuum of darkness which is to be my life forever more.  Deeper and deeper I go until the blackness is filled with seething horrors and a hell-like fire of resentment which burns slowly eating flesh and bone.  And when I finally die, an ash in the back of the tunnel amongst other ashes like me. No one will come to reach me and lift me up for I am too far in.

Dear God (still part of September 12)

Is this to be my life or, will my counselor be able to get me out of this hell?  After all, she is only a person.  Can I trust her and find comfort in the one thought that one day, one month, one year, I will feel much better and will be out of the tunnel into at least a partial light that I can see and live by?  Can I put hope in my counselor?  Can I hope?  Am I allowed this pleasure?

I hadn’t discovered better living through chemicals (ssri antidepressants) nor fundamental religion yet!  The opiate of the populace in America!  What I get from the post is that it’s best to let the resentment and anger go and let God have them or end up in Hell.  The perps keep setting up situations in my life that keep me in perpetual misery but that is their goal:  to put me in Hell.  Screw em.

September 13, 1982

I don’t have anything to say tonight ‘cept I’m scared of pigs, and I hope I can get my job back  I hope I don’t have any nightmares. G’nite

Didn’t know I had nightmares then.

September 14, 1982

Dear God, My counselor has sort of an interesting view on interpretation.  It’s neat.  It’s not just one way or another.  I will not fantasize about rock stars tonight. G’nite

September 15, 1982

Weill it was my fault that I lost the job. For many reasons too.  They in fact were only looking for an excuse to fire me, and boy, what and opportune time it was, I was caught lying!  They might have kept me on if I hadn’t turned them off.  This is depressing me all night.  ___, how I wish I could venge on you, but I realize (I guess) it is my on responsibility.  Oh well.  So much for (insert name of overpriced chain restaurant). Too Bad. G’nite.

Looking back I see I was a victim of mobbing, or a systematic way of running someone off a job.  Before I discovered gangstalking, or mind control on the web, I discovered mobbing, or de-jobbing, if you will.  They made me so uncomfortable and on edge that I acted out and it lost me my job..it happened dozens of times until I finally went on the “dole”.  Please google mobbing and see what comes up.

 September 17, 1982

I’ve got nothing to write Dear God. Well, I went to (insert name of another chain restaurant) today, and he gave me a long interview.  He says he’s been in the restaurant  business for 13 years. One thing that disturbed me is how he hires his employees, (3 to 4 interviews for a crummy waitress job) and his drink gimmick.  If you don’t specify you want a small drink you automatically bring a large. He also calls his waitresses salespeople which makes ____ seem like a big Rip-off joint. I know all of this is in the name of business, but getting back to the interviews how could  anyone come up with a good reason why they would want a lousy min. wage job ‘cept they are Plumb broke?  Lots of bullsh*tting to get that job. G’nite P.S. Busting ass for minimum wage ain’t that hot.

Especially after getting a degree and two other vocational training certificates and having had at least one REAL job to put on one’s resume.  My last “job” before the dole was at that famous Scotch restaurant.  Our haggis in McScotch sauce was goood.  And the single malteds were real good, especially the chocolate ones!

Leave a Comment

summer almost over

January 6, 2008 at 12:24 pm (Uncategorized)
Tags: , ,

August 30 1982

Dear God, I’ve been fantasizing again, which I know is bad for me, and a deterrent to getting well but theses fantasies are different, now instead of the rock stars, I dream of betterring myself and becoming popular, aggressive, thin, charming, desirable to boys and men.  I must doubt I’ll reach it so much that I can only dream about it. I hope not.  Maybe this fantasizing is healthy, and maybe a part of me wanting to get well (Don’t I wish) and I may strive to attain these goals.  I think all this dreaming really is a self-image low. G’nite

And that is all it ever remained:  a dream.

September 2, 1982

Here we are, into September, and I had managed to stay out of the hospital for over 2 months.

Dear God, here is a letter I write to ___ ___,  showing her how I am today, and little that has really changed. (note: this girl I wrote a “letter” to was one of my most miserable taunters and continued to perp me into adulthood, I still “see” her around town. Once, only about 2 years ago, she followed me 30 miles away from home to a festival I was visiting and pointed me out to her kids and said “this is what a slut looks like”  she will burn.) I will write about my self-confidence, lack of friends, and my life in general. I will write this letter tonight and it may be long.  Good Day.

Dear Miserable Bitch,

I haven’t seen you for a long time, have I? Long time no see!! How’ve ya been? I’m sure you’ve missed me soooo much, just like everyone else.  So I’ve changed, huh? What’s different, my bleached blonde hair?  My x-tra boobs? (no boob job, have no idea what it means. I have no idea what that means…) Well that’s all that’s changed, I can assure you of that.  I’m still the same ___ ___, the same girl who walked the halls with her head nearly touching the ground and her glasses down her nose.  I’m still that natural-born scapegoat that gets picked on by everybody and that holds their tail between her legs like a sick dog. The same soft, wimpy  sensitive gluk that won me such gluks like ___ ___ (another girl who was not so popular, yet better off than me) and ___ ___ (another one who was even “glukkier”) .  By the way, how is gluk no 1 doing? Does she still like the Cookie Monster, or has she graduated to Shaun Cassidy? (I kid thee not, this diary is truly dated 1982). Oh well, Nuff said ’bout glucks. Hey, I bet you don’t know where I’ve been these past few months-the looney bin! You don’t say-but oh yes it’s true I’ve spent three months of my “sweet sixteen” at the State Hospital. (I also spent a week at another hospital as well).  Well, it all started with a suicide attempt in Feb., in which I went to ___ ___ (local medical center) for 2 days, amd was transferred to (first looney bin) where I ran away to CA and got caught and was dragged back to (the city I call “hell” or the “prison”). by the goddam pigs! (people still weren’t afraid to call cops pigs then, now every criminal kisses cop ass and most cops are perps. The one way a scumbag threatens you is to get you in a position where he can call the police on you and turn the story around to make YOU look guilty.) Only to be locked up for 3 months in “that dreaded place”.  Well after being there awhile I was able to go on pass with my parents and one day I decided why not run on pass? Well, I did, and I trucked all the way to New Orleans (in it’s pre flood pristine state of sinfulness) and back.  When I got back my parents decided to not have me locked up again, and to let me have a crack at living “on the outs” again. (prementioned evil Sr Staff member), a counselor at the State Hospital said he thought I didn’t have much of a chance to get well on the outs, but he shook hands, wished me  luck, (probably as in “good luck we got ya now babe) and I was on the outs, scared, depressed, and sure of failure. Me, and my parents had a contract made which I have to follow (which I’ve broken a couple times) that has 12 things on it! The agreement is that both parties have to keep the contract or if one breaks it, the other party can break it too. (I forgot my parents had stuff to keep as well) .  Ex. If I run away (breaking the contract.) my parents can stick me back in the State Hospital if they please.  Oh well, now I’ve got a job (which is in the contract.) and I work days since I am also a high-school dropout. (Never again will I walk those halls alone and afraid.)  I plan to get my GED mind you. Now ___, dearest friend, (the teen sarcasm is killing me) you see I am one beset with many problems, and the one thing I’d like to do is tell the whole world to kiss my ass. I’m angry and jealous of everything and everybody, and I’m bitter as hell.  These are the burdens of an old woman, not for a young girl. So, ____, why don’t you kiss my ass, and all your f*ckin’ friends too,and bow down and pay tribute to poor, long-suffering ___ ___?  Why not.  I deserve it!  Luv ya, ___ ____ ____.  G’nite.

Everyone will have to bend the knee and bow their head to Jesus one day so forget about the bowing part, lady.

Leave a Comment